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- Concealed in his fist, Kallist clutched one of the iron bolts that had held the cot to the floor, a bolt that was supposed to be impossible to remove. Kallist had never mastered more than the most rudimentary spells of telekinesis—even Jace hadn’t been an expert there—but chipping away at a bit of mortar? That, even he could manage. With a wolfish grin, he dropped into a crouch, stuck his hand through the bars, and shoved the rusty length of metal into Albin’s inner thigh.
- He and the guard fell back from one another even as Albin’s scream echoed through the cells. The bolt vanished up Kallist’s sleeve, hidden not merely by cloth but a thin layer of illusion. The lieutenant fell writhing to the floor, hands clasped around the jagged, bleeding wound.
- ***
- Agents of Artifice, Chapter 5
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